


Lost

by DustToDust



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: They find him in a church that looks like it'd been abandoned long before the dead rose. He's on his knees before the empty altar striped by the dust rays of the setting sun. Skin and bone hands clutching two rosaries and head bowed so low he's almost flat on the ground.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this back in 2011 for a kink meme under a different name. I think I was only on Season 2 of the show at the time? Reposting it now for lack of anything better to offer up than my old writings. [Request](https://twd-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/1353.html?thread=623433#t623433) was for Connor being the only brother to survive and mistaking Daryl for his brother Murphy.

They find him in a church that looks like it'd been abandoned long before the dead rose. He's on his knees before the empty altar striped by the dust rays of the setting sun. Skin and bone hands clutching two rosaries and head bowed so low he's almost flat on the ground. 

They think he's dead at first. The man doesn't move or acknowledge them in any way. Even when the floor cracks under Shane's careful tread. It's not until they're closer that they hear him, see his thin shoulders rise and fall with unsteady puffs of breath. A reedy thin whisper of sound that's too purposeful to be the random moans of a walker bounce off the hollow of his cupped hands. 

None of them knows what he's saying, or even what language he's speaking. The careful cadence of the words and the position he's in let them know it's a prayer he's speaking. One that he doesn't seem keen on stopping as first Rick then Shane try to talk to the man. The gentle clicking of beads is the only answer they get. He's focused so intently that even Shane's rough shaking gets nothing from him.

It's not until Daryl, impatient to move on, speaks up that they get a response. "Hey! Jackass! You listening to us?"

The man jerks at the shout, words stuttering to a halt, and whips around frighteningly fast. Intense blue eyes wide and fixed on Daryl. He staggers to his feet, tilting precariously on legs that obviously haven't been moved in days. A gun they didn't notice before clatters to the floor.

"Murphy," he croaks out before he collapses.

~

Cursory inspection of the unconscious man reveals that while he's covered in blood, none of it appears to be his own.

Glenn finds the dusty bag in one of the pews. It's filled with more bullets than they've seen in months. Tucked away under a bundle of rope he finds a wallet. It nearly disintegrates in his hands as he pulls out a long expired green card and a photo. The last is what catches everyone's attention.

It's of a group of men gathered in what looks like a bar. Front and center, flipping the bird at the camera, is the man and Daryl. Or at least, someone who looks exactly like him. Right down to the funny little mole next to his mouth.

Daryl shoves Glenn over that comment before storming out of the church. Pausing just long enough to spit out that he'd never seen the man before in his life.

~

Connor wakes up three days later and nearly splits his head open trying to deck Dale when the older man insists there is no Murphy at camp. It takes both Shane and T-Dog to push the ranting man back into the bed they've set him up in and hold him down until he passes out again.

A few hours later, when he wakes again, Daryl is _pushed_ into the camper. Left alone to deal with the obviously deranged man who relaxes when he sees Daryl. Smiles a bright and blinding smile that's full of too much shit for Daryl to handle. That stays there, fixed on Connor's face, even as Daryl explains who he really is. That he isn't whoever Murphy is, that's he's never known Connor.

It only grows as he says, "Missed ye too, brother."

~

Connor follows Daryl _everywhere_ , regardless of whether or not the other man wants him to. No matter how many times Daryl yells at him or shoves him away.

They get into fist fights every five minutes and have to be physically separated at least once a day. Connor comes out of the latest scuffle with a black eye and seems positively cheerful about the whole thing. Daryl, nursing a bloody nose, growls curses at the laughing man and kicks at Connor's shoes.

"No need ta be a sore loser, Murph," Connor says with a smirk that sends them right back to fighting.

~

Even Daryl can see how fucked up the whole thing is. There isn't anything right in the delusion, and Daryl had plenty to say when Rick floated out the idea of keeping the con going. It's annoying as fuck and leaves Daryl feeling trapped when the other man looks at him and calls him brother.

The thing is, Connor is very good in a tight spot. He fights like a seasoned bar brawler and can plan like a veteran soldier. And he always, _always_ , has Daryl's back.

Daryl's lost count of how many times he's almost bought it. Come too close to a geek's face for comfort, or been between bolts at the exact wrong time. Then with a thunk or a bang he's free and Connor's there. Pulling him to his feet and giving him shit for not being able to take care of himself. It's familiar in a way that Daryl doesn't dare think about too much.

So Daryl only repays him with a punch to the gut and a save of his own.

~

"Are ya cryin'?" Daryl asks. Annoyed and uncomfortable at being woken up by the very obvious sounds of a grown man trying to muffle his own sobbing.

"Fuck you," Connor mutters. Voice thick with his accent and emotion. 

Daryl waits. Drifting on the edge of sleep before he hears the zipper of a sleeping bag. He doesn't open his eyes as he listens to the now familiar sound of movement. The sleeping bag being dragged closer to his own in the tent they've shared since Connor got too strong to kick out every night.

Connor flops back down into his bag. Close enough that's he's one long line of heat down Daryl's side. One arm draping over him in a half-hug that always makes Daryl twitch. Connor snickers, and tightens his hold, "Sweet dreams, Murphy."

"Fuck you," Daryl doesn't return the embrace, but he slips back off to sleep anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, ready for more heartache? Read the sequel to this, [Lost and Found](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7633519/1/Lost_and_Found), by Gemini Morgan.


End file.
